


Age-Old News

by trailsofpaper



Series: Hollywood Blues [4]
Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, M/M, Murder Mystery, Sex Work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-12
Updated: 2019-07-12
Packaged: 2020-06-27 00:41:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19779772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trailsofpaper/pseuds/trailsofpaper
Summary: A murder mystery threatens to reveal something of Ryan's past.





	1. Act One

**Scene I**

* * *

“I never see much of you anymore,” Jen had told Ryan over the phone, and, to prove her wrong when next he had a free moment, Ryan thought he’d better swing by her place of work.

It had been his place of work too, once upon a time, and it was strange to have to consider the front entrance. But the evening was late enough that Ryan didn’t want to bother, so he tread the still-familiar path through the alley to the back, where someone who’d been out smoking had left a rag in between the door so Ryan could just pull it open and slip inside.

Details had changed - there were new clothes hanging on the rack and a lamp had gone out recently enough that no one had bothered to change it, but the smell was the same, and that cramped, backstage atmosphere was the same. No one was there, and Ryan felt a strange mix of emotions; relief that he didn’t have to be out on the dancefloor anymore, but also longing for a past that was, in many ways, simpler than his present.

He slipped out to the bar and if the bartender had been anyone other than Jen, he would have frightened the life out of them, he was pretty sure. Jen only made a face and whipped her towel at Ryan, landing a smarting sting on his arm, which made him grin. Good old Jen. While Curly was out waiting the tables, she was alone behind the bar, wearing slacks under her apron and with her black hair the same close cut as Ryan’s, except for the curl she’d pulled over her forehead. Ryan still remembered with fondness the first time Jen had seen him and immediately pegged him for what he was - queer and a child of immigrants, much like herself. It’d been easy to become friends.

“Hey Jen,” he said and pulled her into a one-armed hug, resigned to the fact that she wouldn’t return it. “What’s with you?”

“What’s with me? What’s with you, more like,” she said and let him kiss her cheek before she leaned back and slung the towel over her shoulder to start hanging glasses up to dry. Ryan knew better than to help, even though she had to reach up on her toes to do it. “Showing up without a warning after weeks of seeing neither hide nor hair of you, didn’t your ma raise you better?”

“Something really ruffled your feathers if you’re bringing my mother into this,” Ryan said mildly and leaned back on the counter instead of raising his hackles, which really spoke to his character growth. Jen didn’t seem much impressed by it, however, because she threw him a look that told him he better pick his poison or else shut up. For someone so petite, Jen could pack a whole lot of disdain in just one look.

Ryan reached for the cheaper end of the bourbon shelf, because if the boss found out it’d be coming out of Jen’s wages, and poured himself a glass. Jen gestured for him to pour her one too, and Ryan supposed she could tell that no one was going to need her services for a while. He looked to the dance floor and saw that all clients were taken up with a partner and if Ryan was right about the song, it’d last a while longer. So he poured Jen a shot and set the bottle back before raising his glass in a toast.

Jen mirrored his gesture and knocked the shot back with joyless determination. Ryan followed suit a little more slowly - thanks to Shane he’d come to appreciate taking his time with a drink, but then again, thanks to Shane, he’d been spoiled with better stuff.

“Come on,” Ryan said after Jen had cursed under her breath and wiped her mouth. “I can tell that something’s up.”

Jen set her elbow on the bartop and looked at him, with the empty glass still in her hand. “Goddamn gumshoes have been snooping around all day and getting on my nerves,” she said. “I was starting to wonder if we were even gonna be able to open tonight.”

“Detectives? Here? Why?” said Ryan, who couldn’t help but immediately perk his ears. Jen was still looking at him, but now an exasperated grin tugged at the corner of her mouth.

“Of course you’d want to know, Bergara, always putting your nose where it doesn’t belong.”

“So sue me, Jen, you brought it up!” Ryan said and lifted the bottle in an offering. “C’mon, tell me.”

She sighed but held out her glass for Ryan to fill. “There’s a guy been hanging after Kelsey something fierce these last few weeks,” she said and brought the glass to her lips.

“Do I need to have a talk with him?” Ryan said and immediately looked to the dancefloor. He found Kelsey in the middle of it, cutting the rug in a striking, red dress and with her long, blonde hair tastefully done up, in the arms of a nondescript man in a nondescript evening jacket. He didn’t seem threatening, but you never knew.

“Someone already had a talk with him,” Jen said after swallowing her second belt. “That’s the problem - he turned up dead last night.”

Ryan barely kept from choking on the last of his drink. He sputtered and set it down on the bartop to stare at Jen in shock, mind churning.

“How was he killed?”

“How should I know? I only heard there was a dead man at our doorstep, and that he was the one who’d kept hounding Kelsey every night. Bastard had it coming, if you ask me.”

“You weren’t the one who did it, were you?” Ryan joked, but Jen only glared at him. The song ended, and Ryan finished off his drink just in time for a patron, a man whose careful sidecomb had become disarrayed during the dance, to come up and demand a drink. Ryan was used to being mistaken for an attendant, and this time he _ was  _ standing behind the bar, so he forgave the assumption and did as he was bid and even threw on a smile, free of charge.

Besides, helping Jen out gave him the perfect vantage point to scope out Kelsey, who’d been held back on the dancefloor by her partner, who was hand in hand with her and seemed to be close to falling to his knees and confessing his undying love. Ryan recognized the type; he’d even had a few ladies moon over him like that during his time. He could almost hear Kelsey saying, _ one ticket means one dance, sir. You’re going to have to get another if you want to keep dancing with me.  _ Some people just never took the hint.

Ryan entertained the idea of walking over and breaking it up, maybe pretending he’d bought a ticket for Kelsey’s services, but the mere idea left a sour aftertaste on his tongue and besides, Kelsey had managed to free herself now and was coming toward the bar. Probably aiming to slip backstage while the patrons fortified themselves and hopefully bought another ticket for a dance.

However, she caught sight of Ryan on the way, and Ryan was gratified when she broke out in a blinding smile.

“Ryan!” she exclaimed warmly, but it didn’t pass Ryan by that she also threw a worried glance at Jen, who was busy serving the queue of prospective dancers. Kelsey didn’t linger; she pulled at Ryan’s sleeve and asked him to walk with her while she powdered her nose. He obliged and followed her backstage where she snatched up her purse, found a free mirror, and pulled out her lipstick to reapply it.

“It matches your dress wonderfully,” Ryan said with a grin, and Kelsey skilfully smiled at him without pausing her makeup appliance.

“All right, you flatterer,” she said and held the lipstick up as if she was threatening Ryan with it. “What do you want from me?”

“I just wanted to say hi,” Ryan protested and held his hands up. “How are things with you, Kelsey?”

“Good,” she said, eyes flicking critically over her own appearance in the mirror. “I’ve a couple of steady monkey-chasers that come see me almost every night. I think the fish out there-” she jerked her head toward the hall and, presumably, the man Ryan had seen her dance with “-would like to pick me up, but I don’t know, I haven’t decided if I like him yet.”

“I heard one of the monkey-chasers turned up dead,” Ryan said, watching her face in the mirror.

Kelsey dropped her smile, and Ryan set his hand on her upper arm in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. She leaned into the touch for a beat.

“I’m worried,” she said and tucked the lipstick back in her purse. “I’m sure Jen told you-- We can only keep this place running because we don’t attract any trouble, and now that we’ve attracted it-- What’s to say the cops won’t shut us down, you know?”

“I’m sure they won’t bother,” Ryan said and squeezed Kelsey’s arm, gently. “Even cops have to have fun every once in a while, and besides, I’m sure the boss can pay them off. This is the LAPD we’re talking about.”

That made Kelsey smile again, but she looked worried still. Ryan took his hand off her arm but stepped in just a little bit closer, side first so he wouldn’t crowd her. “Hey,” he said and looked at her sideways, “I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

“It’s not that,” Kelsey said and grabbed her own arm, as if imitating Ryan - or rubbing off his touch. “Or it is, but- Jen’s been strange ever since it happened.”

“Strange how?” Ryan asked and reflexively looked over his shoulder, as if he could see through the wall and to the bar. But then the bell rang, signaling to them to get back out and to their paying customers, and Kelsey gave him a tight, apologetic smile.

“Take care, Ryan,” she said as she swept out. “Hope to see you around soon.”

“Yeah, sure,” Ryan replied and stuck his hands in his pockets and watched her go with a dramatic sweep of her bright, red dress.

* * *

**Scene II**

* * *

“What’s eating you, Ryan?” Shane asked, apropos of nothing as far as Ryan could tell. They hadn’t been talking to each other for a good twenty minutes at least, being far too busy for words. He settled back into Shane’s arms, their legs tangled in damp sheets and each other, and pressed a kiss to Shane’s neck.

“Nothing, unless you want a bite,” he murmured, and he felt Shane shift underneath him. He was a little ticklish, Ryan knew, and he often used it to his advantage. His comment was, at most, a joking flirtation; Ryan knew neither of them would be up for anything of the sort for quite a while yet.

“Don’t you try, I know when I have your full attention and when I don’t,” Shane said and rubbed his knuckle along Ryan’s shoulder blade, pressing at the muscle. Ryan sighed and melted under the touch.

“I think Jen might be in trouble,” he said, reluctantly, and kissed Shane’s neck again, almost rebelliously. It tasted of salt, and Shane’s hair tickled his forehead.

“What makes you think that?” Shane said, with none of the mocking scepticism he sometimes reserved for Ryan’s theories, and settled his hand at the small of Ryan’s back.

“It’s a long story,” Ryan sighed and trailed his fingers along Shane’s ribs, pronounced as they were with him stretched out like this.

Shane made a show of bringing up his arm, hooking it around Ryan’s head and consequently pressing him closer to his chest, to look at his naked wrist. “Well, would you look at the time! The night is still young. Tell me, Bergara.”

“All right, Madej,” Ryan said and felt a tug at the corner of his mouth. He shifted so he could lean his chin on his hand and look down at Shane beneath him, and Shane’s hand landed back on him. “A man-- a customer was murdered at her place of work, or near it, and Jen says he’d been harrassing one of her-- colleagues.”

Shane arched an eyebrow and Ryan steeled himself. “Colleague?” he said mildly, and Ryan felt an uncomfortable twist in his stomach before he realized what Shane was getting at.

“No, Kelsey and Jen aren’t together,” he said pointedly. “They just work in the same place, but you know Jen. She’s protective of her friends.”

“Oh, sure I know,” Shane said breezily and dipped his hand down to squeeze Ryan’s ass before he returned his hand to the small of his back. He was grinning as he said it, and Ryan smiled and rolled his eyes at the gesture before they both sombered again. “So, do you think she became, hm, a little overprotective?”

“I don’t know,” Ryan said thoughtfully and rubbed his chin. “I don’t think Jen would set out to kill him, but what if-- She could have messed up.”

“I’m sure the police will get to the bottom of it,” Shane said and reached over with his other hand to caress Ryan’s jaw. “For what it’s worth, I don’t think she did it either - and, if she did, we’ll see if we can’t smuggle her over to France.”

“You’re impossible!” Ryan said and shoved at Shane, who shook his head laughingly. “And I don’t think the police will get to the bottom of it, I’m pretty certain Jen’s boss will pay them to keep away entirely.”

“Oh, how so?”

The question was entirely innocent, a natural follow-up to what Ryan had revealed, but Ryan felt as if he’d missed a step coming down a set of stairs. He took a deep breath. “You don’t know where I used to work, do you?”

Shane looked at him with an expression of mild surprise. “You still get some gigs as a stuntman,” he said, but a note of wariness had snuck into his voice. Ryan smiled joylessly at him.

“Yeah, about the same amount as before. Not exactly enough to pay the bills. I used to work as-- I worked at a taxi dance hall, Shane. At the same place as Kelsey and Jen. I, uh, I tended the bar.”

“Well,” Shane said, and Ryan steeled himself again, ready to explain or excuse. “I suppose you’re going to want to look into this affair. I only ask that you’ll take me with you.”

Ryan blinked and had to backtrack a few steps. “With me?” he repeated, and Shane shrugged. His small, expressive mouth quirked into a smile.

“Yeah. Someone needs to see to it that you don’t get yourself in trouble.”


	2. Act Two

**Scene III**

* * *

Ryan wasn’t comfortable in a tuxedo the way Shane was - Shane wore a tux like it was any other outfit, and when he adjusted anything it was with a casual, practiced touch. Ryan on the other hand kept tugging on the bowtie like it was threatening to choke him and had to suppress the constant urge to move is arms to check if the fit was right in the shoulders. It didn’t help that he kept looking over his shoulder too, as if the two of them were being followed.

They weren’t, of course. They were just two gentlemen out to a taxi dance hall, where people of all backgrounds mixed freely. Ryan straightened his back and, with Shane on his heels, went up to the bar where Jen was tending to the throng of men who hadn’t managed to get a ticket for this dance.

“Hi,” Ryan said and crossed his arms on the bartop by the very edge. “I’d like to get a ticket to dance with Kelsey, please.”

Jen looked at him and then, and with an apologetic smile to whomever she’d been serving and a signal to Curly at the other end of the bar to take over, she set the bottle down and grabbed Ryan by the shirt collar to yank him closer across the bartop and hissed, “What are you doing?”

“I’m trying to find out if she’s in any danger,” Ryan said, voice strained but quiet. He flexed his calves to stay on his toes, hoping that his tux would withstand the abuse. Jen looked him in the eye for a beat before she decided to trust his words and let him go.

Ryan settled back on his heels and felt Shane brush up against him with his hand, surreptitiously tucking down his waistcoat for him.

“Hello, miss Jen,” Shane said brightly, as if she hadn’t just manhandled Ryan across the bar. “I’m given to understand you’re not available for a dance, which I think is a crying shame.”

“Oh, I’m sure you do,” Jen said drily, but she grinned at him - after some initial misgivings, she and Shane got on like a house on fire; so much so that Ryan sometimes felt that they were having fun at his expense. He cleared his throat as the band in the corner wound to a stop. Jen seemed to shake herself out of it and rummaged below the bartop for a moment before she handed him a ticket with Kelsey’s name on it.

“Keep your money,” she said when Ryan reached into his pocket. “Kelsey would chew me out if she found out I’d made you pay to dance with her.”

“Oh, it’s not for me,” Ryan said and pointed his thumb over his shoulder to Shane, even though his neck prickled with having him here at all. “It’s Legs over here that’ll have the honor.”

“Me?” Shane said with such surprise that Ryan turned on the spot to look up at him.

“Yeah,” Ryan said and looked him over. His bowtie was a little crooked, and Ryan had to curl his fingers into a fist to keep from reaching up and setting it right, where everyone could see. “Kelsey’s already told me everything she’s going to tell me.”

“What makes you think she’ll tell me anything she hasn’t told you?”

“You’re good at letting people talk,” Ryan said with a small shrug and lifted his chin to look out at the dance floor. He could sense Shane looking at him for a beat.

“I suppose this is an opportunity to improve my two left feet,” he said at last and held his hand out for the ticket.

“False humility doesn’t suit you,” Ryan said and slapped it into his palm. “Kelsey’s the tall, blonde one in a red dress.”

Shane gave Ryan a wink so brief Ryan would have doubted it happened if he hadn’t been so used to him employing the gesture as getting the final word in. He turned on his heel and disappeared in the gaggle of other men in black tie trying out for a dance.

“Buy a drink if you want to blend in,” Jen told Ryan when he settled back, elbows on the bar, as the band started up the next song.

“Oh, so now I have to pay?” Ryan said, but he still pulled out a bill from his inner jacket pocket. His writing gigs didn’t exactly leave him flush with cash, but Shane insisted that everything that was his was also Ryan’s, so, here Ryan was, as well off as he was ever likely to be. Jen poured him some bourbon again, but Ryan could tell with just a sniff that this was from the expensive end of the shelf. He held onto the glass but didn’t drink from it.

“Just what are you trying to do here?” Jen said quietly and crossed her arms on top of the bar. Ryan turned his head so they could look at each other, and he shrugged.

“I’m keeping an eye out for Kelsey,” he said. “I mean it. Her admirer turning up dead close to her place of work? That’s not great, Jen.”

“Don’t you think we’re all keeping an eye out for her?” Jen said, and Ryan got the feeling that if there wasn’t a bar between them, she’d have kicked his leg. “What can you do that we can’t? You don’t work here anymore, Ryan.”

“That’s exactly it,” Ryan said and quirked his mouth into a smile. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a flash of red, and Ryan turned his eyes back to the dancefloor. There was Shane, instantly recognizable by his height and his particular gait, even translated to dance. “I can do whatever I want without being fired.”

“Well, I don’t like the sound of that,” Jen said, in a tone of voice that betrayed she very much did like the sound of it. “Give ‘em hell, Ry.”

Ryan flashed her a grin and raised his glass in a toast before he went back to watching Shane and Kelsey on the dance floor. They made quite the striking couple, Shane a head taller than anyone else and Kelsey striving to match him with her intricate updo. Shane wasn’t a crummy dancer, but Ryan could tell Kelsey was leading, and that she was enjoying it.

He was shocked to realize the strand of jealousy that curled through him at the observation, besides the longing. The longing he got - Ryan liked to dance with Shane, be it in public or private - but he’d always held back some, afraid that maybe Shane would ask him, with that spark in his eye,  _ where’d you learn to dance like this, Ryan?  _ and Ryan never wanted to lie to him so he was afraid to invite the question in the first place.

But jealousy? Ryan brought the glass to his lips and examined the feeling; the irrational fear that maybe someone like Kelsey would sweep Shane off his feet and away from Ryan - the knowledge that someone like Kelsey could give Shane what Ryan couldn’t, be someone Shane had on his arm at red carpet events and who Shane could point to and say, _ look, I’m not one of those Hollywood degenerates. _

Knowing it was irrational didn’t help any, so when Shane got back from the dance, his high forehead shining under the warm glow of the lamps and his brown hair curling slightly around his ears, he let Shane grab the glass from his hand and down the bourbon in two gulps.

“She’s a spitfire and no mistake,” Shane said and shook his head, voice hoarse from the drink. “When I complimented her form she told me she’s in high demand and that I ought to count myself lucky that I got in a dance.”

“She say anything specific about the demand?” Ryan asked. He wanted to pull Shane in closer to be clandestine, but that would just be conspicuous. Their voices were masked just fine by the general din of the place. “Did she mention anyone by name?”

Shane shook his head. “What kind of dance partner would she be if she talked about other partners than the one she’s dancing with?” he said, not without humor. Ryan wasn’t in the mood.

“What about the one she’s dancing with now?” Ryan said and nodded to the dance floor. He thought he might recognize the man from the last time, but he wasn’t sure. Besides, Shane only shrugged.

“Like she said. High demand.”

“You know something about that, don’t you, Ryan?” a voice said, and Ryan jumped. He hadn’t heard Curly come up to them behind the bar, and he turned in time to see him smile brightly up at Shane, his eponymous hair shining in the warm light. “What’ll you have, sir?”

“Oh, uh, a neat whiskey is fine, please,” Shane said and looked from Ryan to Curly and back again. “What do you- what does he mean, Ryan?”

“Nothing,” Ryan said, perhaps a bit too quickly, and tapped his fingers on the bartop. The band was playing a song that was a bit too hectic for his taste. “Curly’s full of it.”

“You know it,” Curly said and had the audacity to wink at them while he poured Shane the whiskey. “Oh, but it’s a shame you won’t get to see Ryan out and about tonight, he’s a mean dancer.”

“I know,” Shane said primly and accepted the glass. Ryan felt heat creep up his neck, and he tried to shut Curly up with a cold glare. Curly only looked back with an angelic smile.

“You oughta come in on ladies’ night sometime,” he said to Shane, looking right at Ryan. “Perhaps Ryan here could be persuaded to step back into the shoes for a special occasion.”

“Ladies’ night?” Shane said, still with the glass to his lips. Ryan reached up and snatched it from his hand and replaced it with another ticket.

“Go on, dance with Kelsey again,” Ryan said and shoved at him. “Ask her about the other man that wanted to dance with her twice in one evening, who happened to turn up dead.”

“What shoes? Oh, all right,” Shane said and let himself be shoved out to the dancefloor again. Ryan watched him walk up to Kelsey and her erstwhile dance partner, who seemed a little put out by the impending interruption, but he looked away when Shane threw a glance over his shoulder.

Curly had taken the opportunity to slip out back, and Ryan thought, oh  _ no you don’t,  _ and heaved himself over the bar to follow him.

* * *

**Scene IV**

* * *

He caught up with Curly backstage where he seemed to be tallying crates of booze, and it was all Ryan had to not grab him by the arm and shake some sense into him. Instead he crowded in close and tried to look stern.

“What’s up, Ryan?” Curly asked and paused his counting to flick Ryan’s chin with his finger. “You want to ask me to dance?”

“Lay off, Curly,” Ryan said and refused to flinch. “You know Shane and I are steady.”

“Yes, I know. That’s why I don’t understand why he’s out there with Kelsey,” Curly said and leaned back against a precarious tower of crates. “Although I suppose everyone wants to spice up their romantic lives sooner or later.”

“That’s not-- It’s not like that,” Ryan said, lamely. Curly nodded slowly, like Ryan was stupid.

“Sure it’s not. So, if you’re not back here to ask me to dance, then why are you?”

“Kelsey. She said Jen’s been strange.”

Curly shrugged. “Jen used to be hung up on her, you know that,” he said flippantly. “I think Kelsey’s finally gotten wise, and she’s the one being strange. Jen’s the same as she used to be.”

Ryan thought it over. Jen wasn’t the type to moon over someone, she made a move for it and let the cards fall where they may and moved on with her life. Ryan supposed he’d learned a thing or two from her about getting what he wanted, but in his case, he’d actually kept hold of what he wanted. Never mind that his hold sometimes felt precarious. 

“Kelsey told me she’s had several men vying for her attention besides the one who turned up dead. Can you tell me anything more about them?”

“You’re sounding a whole lot like the professionals that came in to ask about the dead guy,” Curly said with a sniff. “You’re not with the police, are you?”

“Me? Are you kidding, as if they’d ever let someone like me help,” Ryan scoffed and crossed his arms.

“I don’t know, the detective seemed pretty knowledgeable about the ways of the world, if you know what I mean,” Curly said and scratched the side of his nose. “That, and his partner was Asian.”

“Was he?” Ryan could remember the detective and his partner who had stumbled in on him and Shane back in the beginning, and really, how many of them could there be? It was a small world, and Hollywood even smaller. 

“Yes, and come to think of it, Jen seemed to know him,” Curly continued thoughtfully. “She usually doesn’t exchange weighted looks with men she doesn’t know.”

“Jen? Friends with the police?” Ryan said and shifted on his feet. All of a sudden his neck was crawling, with the fear of being overheard. He lowered his voice. “Are you sure?”

“No, I’m not sure!” Curly said in his normal tone of voice, loud and a little bit emphatic. “Wouldn’t surprise me if she knew every Asian in town though. She dragged you out from somewhere, didn’t she?” 

“I guess so,” Ryan said, feeling a little stung. His friendship with Jen was more than a common heritage. “I want to know about the guys that’ve been after Kelsey.”

“You might start with your man,” Curly said and grinned impishly. “Not many that have danced with her twice in one night like that.”

“Not many, but still some,” Ryan insisted, carefully sidestepping Curly’s jab. “Who? Come on, Curly, I want to figure out what’s going on so I know she won’t come to any harm.”

“Well, my money would’ve been on the fella that turned up dead,” Curly said, for the first time with a modicum of sobriety. “He turned up every night and didn’t even look at the other girls. We all thought she was buying groceries with him.”

“But she wasn’t?” Ryan said, searching Curly’s face carefully. He shrugged.

“She didn’t seem particularly torn up about his death. Shocked, sure, but life goes on. I mean, you saw the guy who cut in between Madej’s dancing, right? He was here last night, too. He’s been hopeful for a long time and wasted no time in picking her up. I bet he’s still out there, sniffing at her heels.”

“Wait, what guy?” Ryan said and tried to think back. The man who’d held Kelsey’s hand on the dancefloor? Hadn’t he watched from the sidelines as Kelsey danced with Shane, much like Ryan had?

With a chilling sense of foreboding, Ryan realized that the strains of music from the ballroom had given way to the sound of talk and clinking glasses. The band had finished the song, and Ryan locked eyes with Curly for one moment before he turned on his heel and rushed back inside to find Shane before it was too late.


	3. Act Three

**Scene V**

* * *

“Jen!” Ryan said and grabbed her arm where she was piling dirty glasses in the sink. “Where’s Shane?”

“I don’t know,” Jen said, and she must have seen the naked look of panic on his face because she didn’t make him let go. “I haven’t seen him since you pushed him on Kelsey.”

Ryan let go of her arm and scanned the crowd desperately. His eyes caught the red of Kelsey’s dress, but no Shane nearby. He hopped over the counter again, ignoring the protests of the gentleman whose glass he upended in the process, and shouldered his way over to her.

“Kelsey!” he said, and she turned to him with a bewildered look. A golden lock of hair had come loose from her hairdo and fluttered about her face.

“Ryan?” she said and set a hand on his forearm. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m looking for Shane - the tall fellow you’ve been dancing with,” Ryan said insistently. Kelsey blinked.

“Oh-- Gerald offered him a cigarette.”

“Who the hell is Gerald?” Ryan asked, desperately.

Kelsey still seemed bewildered, but answered readily. “Gerald, I was dancing with him last night and tonight too, in between the tall fellow - Shane. How do you--”

“Jesus,” Ryan said and looked around. “Where are they? Where’d they go?”

“He wanted some fresh air and Gerald followed to keep him company,” Kelsey said and flapped a ticket in Ryan’s face. “I was surprised to see them go, they both seemed to be ready to take me out for another spin, but I suppose the need for nicotine won out.”

“Shane doesn’t smoke,” Ryan said, tugging his bowtie loose, and started running.

He must’ve stepped on several toes by the time he pushed through the front door and cleared the stairs down to the street in one leap. He looked around wildly, but none of the people seemed to be lounging about except one of the two bouncers who were leaned on a pillar and enjoying a cigarette, and Ryan thought,  _ where could they have gone? _

The answer presented itself immediately; the alleyway to the back door was a dark mouth in the street, perfect for if you wanted to steal away. Ryan had stolen away in places like that for illicit reasons in his day and he’d found it thrilling, but now the darkness was imbued with the horror of not knowing what waited him inside it. He wanted to call out for Shane but his heart was lodged in his throat, and so Ryan entered the darkness quietly, with his pulse pounding in his ears.

He found his voice soon enough, when he saw Shane up against the side of the alley, back pressed against grimy stone, with the nondescript man in the nondescript dinner jacket - presumably Gerald - that Ryan hadn’t quite taken note of, standing before him at an uncomfortably close distance.

“Hey, you!” Ryan said and willed his strides to become longer. “Get away from him!”

Ryan met Shane’s eyes as Shane looked at him over the head of the man. He saw his eyes widen in a panicked warning, but adrenaline was pushing Ryan forward so that when the man turned around, Ryan collided with him and grabbed instinctively for his arms, even before he saw the nasty push dagger protruding from his fist.

It was a New Orleans style gimlet knife, the handle shaping it like a T and the blade easily hidden in a boot or a sleeve, and quite illegal to possess. It was pure luck that Ryan’s move didn’t impale him, but instead the knife caught in Ryan’s waistcoat, where he managed to grab the man’s wrist and push the dagger away instead, bringing the two of them in close.

“Get off me, you lousy nickel-hopper!” Gerald snarled and Ryan felt him struggle, but animal self-preservation strengthened Ryan’s grip so that he with a grunt of effort managed to shove Gerald to the wall. His heaving breath washed over Ryan’s face, and he shuddered at the rank heat but nevertheless got his arm across Gerald’s windpipe before he wrenched his hand to bash it against the wall. He felt his tuxedo jacket tear at the shoulder and had time to think, _ dammit,  _ before Gerald’s hand twitched and he dropped the knife.

Gerald changed tack immediately. He dropped down and out from under Ryan and shoved at him with such force that Ryan staggered backward, and Gerald would have grabbed hold of the knife if Shane hadn’t stepped in and put his foot on top of the blade.

With Gerald bent and scrambling for it, all Ryan had to do was grab him by the shirt and knee him in the gut, driving his knee up like he was aiming to kick himself in the face. Gerald gasped and doubled over, and on his way down, Shane vindictively kicked up with his foot so that when Gerald went down, he was out for the count.

Chest heaving and pulse still pounding, Ryan watched as Shane leaned down and gingerly fished up the push dagger so that if Gerald regained consciousness, he wouldn’t be able to reach it.

“I thought you were the one who was supposed to keep me out of trouble,” Ryan said, to hide that he was trembling, and stepped forward. Shane met his eyes.

“He threatened to kill Miss Kelsey if I didn’t leave,” he said and turned to Ryan as if to embrace him. “But then he followed me out, so I think he was out for blood any way you slice it - sorry, poor choice of words.”

Ryan was grimacing, but he still pulled Shane close and buried his face in his chest, his hands nervously traveling across Shane’s sides and back, searching for injury.

“Don’t ever do that to me,” he said and settled his hands on Shane’s ribs in a hug, arms crossed over the small of his back. “I thought I’d be too late to-- I thought he might’ve already--”

“It’s all right,” Shane said, but like this Ryan could tell he was shaking too, his voice just a little unsteady as he returned the embrace with one arm. “I’m right as rain, Ryan. He didn’t have time to do me harm, he was too busy explaining that if I so much as laid a finger on Kelsey again he’d cut it off.”

“They’re out here-- Oh God, they’ve killed him!” sounded a voice. As Shane and Ryan turned from each other and toward it, Ryan caught sight of Kelsey in the doorway, flanked by the bouncers Ryan had seen on his way out, at the front. Before he could so much as say hey, the two men advanced on Shane with intent.

“Whoa now, fellas!” Shane said and dropped the knife. But it was too late, and one of the bouncers put his elbow in his face as they captured Shane between them, yanking him violently away from Ryan.

“Let him go!” Ryan shouted and would’ve gone into the fray if Gerald hadn’t awoken at precisely that time and made a frantic move for the dropped dagger.

For the second time in as many minutes, Ryan was fighting with a madman for his weapon in the dirt. Thankfully, Gerald was still dazed and it wasn’t too difficult to wrench him away from it and kick the push dagger all the way to the mouth of the alleyway, firmly out of anyone’s reach.

“Gerald, stop it!” Kelsey called, when he was trying to stand upright and Ryan was trying to hold him back in an undignified display of wrestling.

“I did it for you, Kelsey!” Gerald said desperately, voice raw and breaking. “He wasn’t treating you right, not like I was! I had to do it, don’t you see? I had to kill him!”

Ryan saw Kelsey put a hand to her mouth, just as Jen appeared beside her in the doorway. She took stock of the situation in the alleyway with one look and set her hand on Kelsey’s arm.

“Let’s go back inside,” she said. “Ryan, you got him?”

“I got him,” Ryan said and pinned Gerald’s arms behind his back. The fight seemed to have gone out of him with his confession, and the two bouncers had finally seen fit to leave Shane alone.

Somewhat sheepishly, they took Gerald off Ryan’s hands and talked between them to call for the police, and Ryan left them to it and went over to Shane. He was slouching, idly rubbing at his jaw where Ryan thought he’d been clocked, and even if that didn’t necessarily leave a mark, it sure left your head ringing.

“Hey, big guy, how are you?”

“Don’t call me that,” Shane said, so Ryan figured he couldn’t be that bad off. He set his hand on Shane’s arm, above the elbow.

“Let’s get you back inside, too,” Ryan said, and with a quick glance to the back of the bouncers, he stood up on his toes and kissed the side of Shane’s jaw that was uninjured. “God knows I need a drink.”

As Ryan turned, he felt Shane reach out and touch the small of his back.

“Your tuxedo’s ruined,” Shane said, almost contemplative. “You’re all right, aren’t you?”

“Rather the tuxedo than me,” Ryan said and flashed Shane a grin over his shoulder before he linked their hands and pulled him along.

* * *

**Scene VI**

* * *

“He called you a nickel-hopper,” Shane said, much later, after the police had come and gone and the patrons too. All that were left were Jen and Kelsey behind the bar, deep in discussion, and Shane and Ryan at the bar, deep in drink. Shane kept pressing the glass of half-melted ice against his smarting jaw in between sips. “That’s a funny insult, don’t you think?”

“Not really,” Ryan said without looking at Shane. “It’s true.”

Shane’s silence felt like the appropriate reaction to the secret Ryan hadn’t been hiding so much as he’d been tip-toeing around since he’d started going out with him. Ryan polished off the last of his drink and reached for the bottle. He didn’t think they were going to have to settle the tab anytime soon.

“If I’d known that,” Shane said with a light-hearted affectation, “I would have visited this place a long time ago.”

Ryan looked at him then, with his hand on the neck of the bottle. Shane was watching him in turn, glass still pressed against his jaw. His eyes were soft, and the upturning of his mouth signaled not amusement, but fondness. Ryan didn’t dare lift the bottle for fear that it’d slip out of his hand.

“I don’t-- not like that,” Ryan said. “I danced with women, Shane, who wanted to learn, or-- or just wanted the company. Ten cents a ticket.”

“Ryan,” Shane said and shifted on the barstool to set his hand over Ryan’s arm. “I understand. I’m just saying, I’ve danced with Kelsey all night, but I’d much rather dance with you.”

Despite himself, the corner of Ryan’s mouth twitched.

“You’re just saying that because you almost got murdered tonight on account of her,” he said and lifted the bottle, finally, to give them both a refill.

“You like to poke into other people’s business, Ryan,” Shane said and took a hearty sip of the drink. “But that’s the reason you sought me out, and, so help me, that makes me a fool for you.”

“Not the only reason,” Ryan said, when Shane set the glass down. Shane quirked his eyebrows in that expressive way of his and Ryan set his lips to his own glass before he finished, “I like a challenge, and you are like climbing Mount Everest.”

“Is that a comment about my stature?” Shane exclaimed with such affectated drama, sitting up straight and sweeping out with his hand, that Ryan damn near choked on his sip.

He started laughing silently, and that sent Shane off chuckling, and soon they were both giggling like schoolboys over their glasses until Jen, from the other end of the bar, piped up, “Get a room, you two!”

“Get one yourself!” Ryan said and took a deep breath to subdue the laughing. Kelsey looked as torn up as she had while the police questioned her, and he didn’t want her to think Ryan found the circumstances humorous. She was leaning against the bar with her arms crossed.

“How are you, miss Kelsey?” Shane asked. “Do you need someone to take you home?”

“Jen’s offered to come with, stay the night,” Kelsey said with a grateful smile toward Jen, who smiled back and tried to busy herself with cleaning up. “Thank you, mister-- though I don’t appreciate the two of you trying to go behind my back! Ryan, you never told me you were paying the rent with someone!”

Ryan ducked his head and rubbed at his neck. “Oh, yeah,” he said sheepishly. “Kelsey, this is Shane Madej. Shane, Kelsey.”

“Thank you, we’ve met,” Shane said and reached out his hand to shake Kelsey’s, which made Kelsey laugh.

“You’re a funny one,” she said appraisingly and let go of Shane’s hand. “You’re treating Ryan right, aren’t you?”

“I try to,” Shane said primly, and Ryan’s ears burned.

“Will you two stop talking like I’m not in the room?” he said, to cover up his embarrassment. At least his complexion made the blushing hard to spot.

“Aw, don’t be so sore, darling,” Jen cut in, as she was shrugging on her coat. “You boys ready to go? I need to lock up.”

“You got it,” Shane said and downed the drink before he stood up. Ryan followed suit and grimaced at the burn of the bourbon going down.

He let Kelsey and Shane go on while he hung back as Jen locked the doors behind them. “Are you all right?” he asked, quietly. Jen looked at him and raised her eyebrows.

“Me? Why wouldn’t I be, I wasn’t nearly offed in an alleyway like the two of you.”

Ryan rolled his eyes and nudged Jen with his elbow. “No, I heard from Curly that Kelsey’s been strange about you being--”

“A dyke?” Jen cut in drily. “No, she’s fine with it. And I’ve set my sights elsewhere, Bergara. We’re just friends, Kelsey and I.”

He nodded slowly, but as they started to walk after Shane and Kelsey, he pulled her in for a one-armed hug, pressing her close for a moment. “Thanks for the booze,” he said.

“You can thank me by introducing me to one of your pretty lady friends. I’m sure Shane knows a few,” Jen said and shrugged him off. But Ryan could tell she didn’t mind, because she elbowed him in the ribs too.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Ryan said in mock outrage as they caught up with Shane and Kelsey, but Jen only laughed. Shane looked back at Ryan with a smile, and Ryan reached out to link their fingers together.

Just for a while, they could walk down the streets holding hands in the company of friends.

* * *

**The End**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To quote from [this wikipedia article on taxi dance halls](https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Taxi_dance_hall):
>
>> Taxi dance halls flourished in America during the 1920s and 1930s. In 1931 there were over 100 taxi dance halls in New York City, and between 35,000 and 50,000 men would go to these halls every week. There were also establishments which offered male professional dancers to women such as Maxim's in New York, where dancer/actor Rudolph Valentino got an early start.
> 
>   
> Taxi dance hall glossary from the wikipedia article referenced above, for words used in the fic:
> 
> “Monkey-chaser” – A man interested in a taxi dancer or chorus girl  
> “Fish” – A man whom the girls can easily exploit for personal gain  
> “Buying the groceries/Paying the rent” – Living in a clandestine relationship  
> “Professional” – A government investigator. One visiting the taxi-dance hall for ulterior purposes  
> “Nickel-hopper” – A taxi dancer
> 
> Working as a male taxi dancer (aka “tango pirate” or “lounge lizard”) was considered barely a step above sex work, which is why Ryan has hang-ups about it. It was the same for female taxi dancers as well. I’ve fumbled this a bit since I haven’t found a mention of a dance hall that would cater to both ladies and gentlemen, but I think stranger things must have happened.
> 
> Here’s a [neat little article on taxi dance halls with female dancers and their male patrons](https://www.atlasobscura.com/articles/why-men-in-the-1920s-paid-women-for-spins-around-the-dance-hall) if you want to know a little more.
> 
> Shoutout to the podcast _You Must Remember This_ , without which this fic would probably have never been written, or if it had, it wouldn’t have been half as good (and whose episode on Rudolph Valentino introduced me to the concept of taxi dancing in the first place).


End file.
